Arrayed on the Ladies’ Day banquet table were yellow-green avocado pear halves stuffed with crabmeat and mayonnaise, and platters of rare roast beef and cold chicken, and every so often a cut-glass bowl heaped with black caviar. I hadn’t had time to eat any breakfast at the hotel cafeteria that morning, except for a cup of overstewed coffee so bitter it made my nose curl, and I was starving.

The Bell Jar, Sylvia Plath

I spent last weekend on the coast in Kent with my sister. I haven’t been to England’s east coast before, apart from what I once glimpsed from an overnight bus on a trip to Paris. I am only now aware of quite how much of an oversight this has been. This weekend, we took our time exploring woodlands, cliffs, beaches and winding country roads. We stayed in a B&B, stretching breakfasts out until they could be more accurately defined as lunch, taking long baths every evening and reading books – on recommendations after my recipe a fortnight ago I had more Barbara Pym to occupy my time.

On Saturday evening, we found ourselves in Whitstable, hovering outside Wheeler’s Oyster Bar. They’re undergoing renovations at the moment, and have only four bar stools propped up at the fish counter. They’re booked out weeks in advance. But somehow, Luce and I managed to talk our way into a pair of seats. I dashed across the road to get a bottle of fizz, and we ate our way through oysters, John Dory ceviche with apple and crab, tuna carpaccio and soft shell crab in tempura. It was bliss.

It was also the first time I’ve eaten crab since last year, when I made this dish from The Bell Jar. After visiting Billingsgate Market last June, and taking two live brown crabs home with me for less than £5, I vowed never to buy picked crabmeat again. The thing is though; going to Billingsgate is an event. It involves getting up before 4am on a Saturday. And now that I’m in South London, it’s even more of a faff on public transport. The reason you pay more at a fishmonger is because they’re doing the “getting up early and travelling on a night bus at dawn” bit for you. So I’m biting the bullet and buying some crabmeat, so I can make this very summery salad again.

And, to avoid the food poisoning that this dish causes in The Bell Jar, do keep your crabmeat in the fridge, rather than under powerful lights.

‘To avoid the food poisoning that this dish causes in The Bell Jar, do keep your crabmeat in the fridge.’ You have been warned. Photograph: Kate Young

Crab, avocado and mayonnaise: the recipe

Serves 2 as a generous starter

Ingredients

1 large brown crab (about 1.5kg) or 200g white crab meat

1 spring onion

About 15 parsley leaves

About 20 fronds of dill

1tbsp plain yoghurt

Sprinkle of sea salt

Grinding of black pepper

Squeeze of lemon

Mayonnaise

1 egg yolk

1tsp lemon juice

1/2tsp hot English mustard

125ml olive oil

Equipment

Collection of tools for taking apart a crab – including a hammer and a skewer

Mixing bowl

Whisk

Knife and chopping board

‘Going to Billingsgate [fish market] is an event. It involves getting up before 4am on a Saturday.’ Photograph: Kate Young

1 Place your crab upside down on the table in front of you. To get at the white meat, twist the legs and claws off the body. Work with them one by one. Crack their shells with the hammer, and pull the meat out, then set it aside. The claws have a significant amount of meat in them, so make sure you crack each part, and use a skewer to get into the crevices.

2 You don’t need the brown meat for this recipe but, to access it, keep the crab facing belly-up. Place your thumbs under the base of the centre piece of the shell and push up. The body will come out. Discard the white gills and scoop out the brown meat. Set aside for use in another recipe.

3 To make the mayonnaise, whisk the egg yolk until thick and creamy. Whisk in the lemon juice and mustard, along with a pinch of salt and pepper. Very slowly add the oil to the yolk, whisking continuously. Keep your eye on the oil, rather than the mayonnaise, and don’t let it pour out too quickly. You just want a couple of drops every few seconds. Once the mayonnaise has started to thicken, you can pour a little faster. Continue whisking until you have used most of the oil and the mayonnaise is very thick.

4 Finely chop the spring onion, parsley and dill. Combine the crabmeat, two tablespoons of the mayonnaise and the yoghurt, herbs and spring onion in a bowl. Taste for seasoning.

‘Arrayed on the Ladies’ Day banquet table were yellow-green avocado pear halves stuffed with crabmeat and mayonnaise, and platters of rare roast beef and cold chicken, and every so often a cut-glass bowl heaped with black caviar’ ... Sylvia Plath’s words. Photograph: Kate Young

5 Cut the avocado in half, remove the stone and peel off the skin. Take a small slice off the base of the avocado, so it will sit on the serving plate with a bit of stability. Spoon a generous amount of the crab mixture into the hole left by the shell. Squeeze some lemon over the top and serve. With a martini, of course.